Coping
by omelettethemusical
Summary: Morwenna finds ways to cope with her life with Rev. Whitworth. CW for mentions of rape, self-harm, and suicidal thoughts.


When I first walked down the aisle with him, I knew it would be bad. But I had no idea how bad. If I had, I'm not sure I would have gone through with it.

Sometimes when my father came home drunk and angry, my mother would cut her arms with a kitchen knife. I never understood why she did that. I have plenty of pain in my life already. Why would you cope with pain by adding more pain to it?

And so I focus on the good things that remain in my life, the little things. The things he can't take away from me. The warm feel of sunshine on my face, the smell of the salty sea air, the long grass swaying in the breeze, the sun setting over the clouds, the birds singing in the trees, the flowers blooming in spring, the snow covering the ground in winter._ This is the day that the Lord hath made._

I find it hard to believe that the man I had hoped to call brother-in-law and the man I now call husband preach about the same God. I find it hard to believe that a loving God would allow this to happen to me. Sam says that God has a plan for everything and everyone, and that suffering brings people closer to Him. I do not feel that my suffering has brought me closer to God, the God who commands wives to submit to their husbands.

After he is finished with me, I lie awake in bed. I try to convince myself that this has all been a long nightmare and that soon I will wake up and everything will be as it was before. I close my eyes and I am a little girl again, playing on the beach with my parents and Rowella. And then I open them, and I am here. And nothing has changed.

My skin crawls whenever he touches me. His hands are so cold, even when they are warm. I barely eat. Every time I take a bath, I scrub my body furiously, trying to clean myself from him. Every minute he is not in the house, I wait anxiously for him to come home, praying that he will be too tired or preoccupied to want me tonight. And sometimes he is. But usually he isn't.

Most wives would be envious if their husbands slept with other women, especially their own sisters. But not me. I am relieved. The more energy he has for her, the less he has for me. I cannot thank Rowella enough. Nor can I imagine how she would willingly go to his bed.

Sometimes I get angry, and think about the people I hate._ I hate Osborne. I hate Lady Whitworth. I hate George. I hate Elizabeth._ But hate cannot sustain me for long, and so I think about the people I love instead. _I love Drake. I love Geoffrey Charles. I love Rowella. I love John Conan._

John Conan. The only good thing to come out of this hell of a marriage. When I first found myself pregnant with him, I didn't want to believe it. I thought I could never love a child so conceived. But I did. I do. Maybe because he looks more like me than like his father. Maybe because he saved me - at least temporarily - from his father's advances. Of course, I would never really have hurt him. But Lady Whitworth took him away from me, and now I have nothing. And now there is another one coming, and as soon as he is born, Lady Whitworth will take him too, and I will have nothing again. My greatest fear is that he will turn out like his father. Of course, this one could be a girl. I don't know whether that would be better or worse.

Dr. Enys shepherded me through my first pregnancy. He has been a great comfort to me. I asked him to call me Miss Chynoweth, not Mrs. Whitworth. He told me he spits into every medicine he gives my husband. He told my husband to stay away from me after I gave birth, but it made no difference. I suspect he said I needed longer to recover than I actually did, in order to protect me. I asked him what it was like to be married, really married. He said it was not always easy, but when two people love each other, marriage can be a beautiful thing. I believe I could have had a beautiful marriage with Drake. But now that part of me is ruined forever.

I still see Drake once in a while. I told him not to come near me, though it breaks both our hearts. He is so close to me, and yet so far. He cannot bear to think that he is responsible for my condition, although he is entirely blameless. He is engaged now, to Miss Rosina Hoblyn. I suppose I couldn't expect him to wait for me forever. Life must go on. I wish them all the happiness in the world, for I will have none. Yet selfishly, I hope he does not truly love her. He must enjoy his life, for I have endured this misery to save it. When he was about to be hanged, I feared it had all been for nothing, and I would have nothing left to live for.

This house is a prison, and all its luxuries only serve to remind me of my captivity. My husband threatened to have me committed if I continued to refuse him. I told him to go ahead. Life in an asylum would be preferable to life with him. I have nothing to lose. But he won't do it. He has an image to maintain. Even though everyone with an ounce of sense already knows what kind of man he is.

Sometimes I stand at the edge of the cliff and wonder why I don't jump off it into the sea. Maybe it's because suicide is a mortal sin. Maybe it's because I'm afraid. Maybe it's because he wants me to die, and I won't give him the satisfaction of letting him have what he wants. Or maybe it's because I still hold out a faint hope that he will die and I will be free from all this.

He'll never read this. He couldn't care less what I think.

But I might as well burn it anyway.


End file.
